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Almost instantly, a voice called out from inside. I guess my head had hit the door harder than I’d thought.

“Tris? Is that you?”

Now I was confused. But the footsteps were approaching the door, and the locks turned, and I still stood there, silently. I didn’t know what to say anyway.

The door opened, and there, wearing a bathrobe, was AC. We both stared at each other, shocked.

Chapter 24

He spoke first. “Uh, hi? Are you Lily? Where’s Tristan?” He looked around the hall anxiously. “Shit. Come on. We can’t talk out here.” He stepped away and opened the door further, and I walked in. He shut the door, and did all the locks up. He looked nervous. “Hi, sorry. Where are my manners? Come sit down. You probably weren’t expecting to see me. You were here first. But where’s Tristan? Oh, I’m AC. But you knew that. Nice to meet you. How did you get here?” He was firing off questions at me, as he sat back down on the sofa and started flipping through channels again, tapping his foot. “Is he coming up now?”

I turned to him. “Hi. AC. Listen. I thought he’d be here. With…” I still couldn’t say the name, “the other guitarist, um, and...” I stopped and tried to make what I was saying make sense. “The last time I saw him was at the party and he was sitting with them.”

AC snorted. “Yeah, the cozy little trio. So what did you do?” He stopped switching channels and poured himself some more wine. “Want some? I hate drinking alone, but I’m so used to it by now, so don’t worry if you don’t. There’s glasses over there.” He pointed to the mini bar behind the teak cabinet. The door was open, revealing a small fridge and a collection of plates and glasses on top.

I sighed. I knew I should just be getting out and forgetting it all, but I couldn’t resist. Talking to AC. I might never get another chance. I looked at the door to the suite. Exit or entrance. I wished I could stop hoping. “Yeah, I’ll have one. Just need to make a quick call to my driver. Hang on.” I walked over to the bar, putting the code in my phone. AC actually turned around to watch me talking as I came back holding the glass, telling Tariq I’d been delayed and would let him know when to get me. His face registered some disbelief.

“Apologizing to the driver, huh?” he said. “That’s a new one.” I shrugged. “Have some wine.” AC poured out some of the Barolo into my glass.

“The good stuff?” I asked him as he carefully wiped the lip of the bottle.

He laughed. “Hey, why not. I came out to see Tristan. Now I’m haunting hotel rooms.”

I took a sip. God, divine. It almost stopped the bleeding. Almost. I stared into my wine. Velvet red. All the things that could have been. That were. I drank some more to keep myself from jumping up from the sofa.

“So why aren’t you at the party?” AC asked, switching off the TV.

His question startled me. There was a relentlessness to him that put me on edge. “I could ask you the same question. With more reason.” I pointed at his guitar, in its case, leaning on the window. “You were on stage with him.” I drank some more. “It was a great show, by the way. I like the way the two of you are on stage.” Liked, I thought. Over. Done.

“Were you there?” He peered at me more closely. “Yes. You were the one in the front row. Next to Trevor. The one Tristan was flirting with.”

I tried to be flippant. It wasn’t really coming from the right place. “Yeah, that was me. Having fun.”

AC looked like he was trying to remember something. “You. Lily. You’re writing the piece.” He glanced around. “More importantly, you’re shagging him. That’s your stuff here. You’re the girl Tristan said would be here.”

“Was that before he started snorting coke off his ex-wife’s thighs, or afterwards?” I snapped.

AC let out a low whistle. “Oh man, is he doing drugs with them now? Fuck, man. I told him I wasn’t into it. I just got out of rehab. Shit. Fucking parties, Lily.” We drank some more. “It’s always the same. I ducked out. A bottle of this costs half of what I used to spend in an hour—and apparently red wine keeps you alive. Makes a nice change.” He raised the bottle. “More?”

“Yeah, why not?” I waited until he’d finished and took another sip. If I kept focused on him, I wouldn’t see the door to the bathroom. Wouldn’t remember. Wouldn’t see his hands. His face in the mirror. I leaned back. I didn’t feel like chatting. I didn’t feel like anything. And now I was planning on heading to some generic hotel out by the airport. Or I could sit here, drinking Barolo with another rock star. Either way, I still felt like shit. But I could feel like shit and have just a little pride. “Listen, you’ll have the room to yourself tonight anyway. I’m leaving.”

“Isn’t Tristan coming back?” AC looked genuinely surprised. “He said we were going to have lunch with Trevor tomorrow.”

I stared at him. What the fuck. “Yes. That was all arranged. For the article. I think Trevor wanted to speak with him too.” I was trying to make my words sound precise. To my ears, I was starting to slide them all together. “I was due to be there as well. Trevor.” I stopped suddenly. What was I saying? I wanted to trust this guy. Would he even remember this conversation tomorrow? No idea. “Listen. I’m leaving. Would you…”

AC interrupted me. “Tell Tristan you left?”

Suddenly all the upset became anger. “No. I don’t give a fuck what you tell him. But Trevor. Tell him I’m sorry.”

AC’s face became fixed on a point somewhere above the TV. For a moment, I thought he was going to turn it on again, and stop talking. But he just sat there for a moment, then turned to me, and oddly, took the glass out of my hand, and held my hand. He didn’t say anything for a minute, but seemed to be examining my hand. “Nice ring,” he finally said, looking at the antique silver art nouveau ring I always wore. “Lily. It’s none of my business. But he’s hurt me too. Look, I flew out from LA just to be here with him. I thought maybe we were going to tour.” He paused. “We probably still are. Business is business.”

I pulled my hand away. “Business is business? What the fuck does that mean?” AC sat back and stared at me. I covered my face with my hands. “Shit. Look. I should go. This isn’t your fault.” I started to get up.

“No. It’s ok. He’s an asshole, sometimes. Stay. Finish your wine, anyway.” He stood up and grabbed a packet of pretzels from the mini bar, then flopped back down on the couch.

We sat there. It was very quiet. My ears were still ringing from the concert. I ran my hand over the fabric. Nice. Wool. Little luxuries. Like Dave had said. It all cost. I was finding it cost a little too much, that’s all.

AC cleared his throat. “It’s none of my business.”

“No,” I said.

“But,” he started.

“But you’re going to give me advice,” I laughed bitterly. “Go ahead. The whole world seems to be clocking in with advice for me lately. Let’s hear it from his side. Forgive him, right? He’s a rock star. Parties. The fast life. Etc. Etc. Go ahead. Tell me.”

AC listened to my tirade with surprising patience. Then he put his hand on my knee. I jerked. He laughed. “Tris talked about you, you know.”

I smirked. “Yeah, I bet he did.”

He moved a little closer. “That’s not what I meant. Though he did mention you guys were very…um…compatible.” AC smiled.

“Nice. True love. Please spare me. And your advice is to keep on with a good thing?”

He took his hand away. “I think you’re getting the wrong idea.”

“I usually do. So make it clearer for me, so even I can understand it.” Suddenly the polyester green bedspread that awaited me didn’t seem that bad.

“I think you should dump his sorry ass.” He put down his glass as he said this, and went over to the phone.

“Are you calling him?”

“No, I’m calling for another bottle of wine.”

I suddenly wanted to cut to the chase. “Is there subtext here? Because I’m tired. And perhaps every other girl he’s fucked has just dropped down the scale from one of you to the other, but you know, other than your taste in wine, I know nothing about you.” I got up. “Aside from which. I don’t do that. Were you supposed to be my consolation prize?”

He put down the phone. “Shit. No. Sorry. Though I’m flattered you at least put me on the scale, even though you’re not my type,” he said sarcastically.

“You’re welcome.”

“What I was going to say,” he continued, picking the phone back up, and holding it to his ear, “was that you…oh wait.” He ordered another bottle to be sent up right away. “Yes, put it on Mr. Mustang’s bill.” He hung up and came back to the sofa, where he re-established himself in very nearly the same position. “I think Mr. Funtimes owes us, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure, but yeah, he owes you. You came over to play.”

“And not you?” He looked at my glass. “Drink. Heartbreak’s such a good excuse to get wasted. Why miss out?”

I could feel the lump in my throat coming back. I couldn’t play this game of “I don’t fucking care” anymore. “Yeah. Great advice. Was that it?” I got up. “I’m going to get my bags, ok?”

“You’re really not going to wait for him?”

“What, so I can sniff out another woman all over his face? Yeah, brilliant. No. No.” I was angry, very angry, I realized.

“Good. Because that was my advice. Leave him. He’s so fucking used to getting whatever he wants. Hot and cold cunt running on tap, and always somebody to clean up the mess after him.” He caught my eye. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that.”

I bit my tongue. No more crying. “I guess that means you think he’s moved on too.”

AC got up and walked over to me, quickly. I was suddenly wrapped in his arms. He smelled of expensive fragrance, not unlike Dave. It was a strange juxtaposition, with his skinny body. He kissed my neck, and ran his fingers through my hair, then all the way down to the small of my back, stopping just above my ass. “You’re the real deal, aren’t you?”

I removed his arms, gently. “AC. I’m going, ok? This isn’t my scene.”

He squinted at me, and shook his head. “It’s ok. I’m sorry. I should have…forget it.” The doorbell rang, and he jumped away, apparently grateful for the interruption. I watched him take the bottle from the guy at the door, but careful not to let him in. That’ll be the source of gossip downstairs, I thought. He came back towards me, holding the bottle. “Lily. Another bottle? I’ll behave, I promise. You just have to understand…most women…once you’re at a certain point, you know.” He stopped speaking just long enough to pull the cork out. “They usually don’t say no. I forget sometimes.” He poured both of us a glass. “Come on. One more glass. Maybe Tristan will turn up, begging forgiveness.”

“Maybe you won’t finish that bottle and watch porn on TV.”

He laughed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

I took the glass he offered me, and inhaled. “Ah the beautiful things in life. Weren’t they supposed to come to you when you appreciated them? I guess they did.” I drank half the glass.

“Whoa girl, you’re not appreciating that.”

“No, I’m doing the quick thing. Good, but it won’t last.” I drank some more. “AC. Is there a way out that isn’t through the front?”

He thought for a minute. “Yeah, there’s the service entrance. You can get to it from the basement.”

“I’ve got to go.” I walked to the bedroom to get my bag. There was the bed, still perfectly made. The scent of the flowers was stronger now at night. It would have been a beautiful place to make love, I thought. And almost as I thought it, the bed looked frozen, like a big glass wall had just come down between us. Over. Untouchable. I wanted to run my hands over the bed, imagine him behind me, naked, ready to mess up all the perfection with me. Instead, I took one last look around and picked up my two bags. Turning away slowly, I stumbled back into the living room area. AC was back on the sofa. I put the bags down again and picked up my glass to finish it.

“AC, it’s been a pleasure.” I leaned over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then I picked up his glass and drained it as well, while he squawked and put his hand on my ass.

“You sure, Lily?” he said conspiratorially. “Come on. We’re both here. Why waste this room? This bottle of wine?” He lowered his voice an octave. “I know a few tricks too, darling. Carpe diem.” He looked up at me, trying to look sexy. But he couldn’t hide the look of lonely hopefulness in his eyes. I almost felt bad for leaving him.

I gave him another kiss on the cheek, which he tried to turn and catch on his mouth. “AC. I get the carpe. In my next life, I promise I’ll fuck around more. And you’ll be first. Maybe.” I laughed. “Don’t get up; just tell me how to get out. Oh never mind, I’ll just go out the front. I won’t be the first whore they’ve seen leaving in the middle of the night. Just maybe just the first one with a computer. Could be a trend.”